


Herbology

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_springsmut, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-19
Updated: 2006-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville gets an idea from an old Herbology book, and needs Luna's help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Herbology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cjmarlowe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/gifts).



Neville was always relieved to return to Hogwarts after the holidays. Not that he didn't love his Gran, of course. But going to see his parents at St. Mungo's never became any easier, no matter how old he was or how many times he made that visit.

The dormitory still seemed strangely empty without Harry, and Ron looked a bit lost. Seamus and Dean were down in the common room flirting with Romilda Vane and her coterie. Neville ventured, "Have a good holiday, Ron?"

"Yeah. Yours?"

"It was all right. Glad to be back, though."

"Just think, only a few months till we take our N.E.W.T.s and then we'll be leaving for good."

"Don't remind me," said Neville. He had no worries about Herbology, but both Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms had been proving difficult. He was thankful that Professor McGonagall had not allowed him to try for a N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration – there was no chance he could have kept up. "Too bad Harry's not here to revive the D.A. It was great practice. Did you see him over Christmas?"

Ron muttered something indistinguishable, and Neville guessed that he had, but wasn't supposed to talk about it. He messed about with unpacking his trunk for a few more minutes. Ron was doing the same, shoving socks and pants and shirts quickly into drawers.

"See you at dinner." Ron headed out the door.

Just like last term. Anyone was better to hang about with than Neville. He was used to it but it gnawed at him nonetheless. It was nearly dinnertime, though, and after dinner he would go to the greenhouses. The success he had had with the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ had impressed Professor Sprout so much that she had put Neville in charge of several of the plants in greenhouse four this year.

He had talked Gran into letting him go alone to Diagon Alley after they had visited St. Mungo's, and had browsed around in Flourish & Blotts. Sitting dustily on a bottom shelf was a secondhand volume, _Magickall herbes, a general historie of such trees fruites rootes and flours withe Advice on theyre Growthe and Usages_. He had bought it, spending most of his Christmas Galleons to do so, and had spent the last few days of the holiday reading through the difficult print. The author, one Gerardus Johannis, proposed some very unusual ideas about how to make certain types of plants grow best.

Professor Sprout swore by dragon dung as the ideal fertilizer for nearly any magical plant, and most non-magical ones as well, but Johannis suggested that it was better to match the fertilizer to the conditions. Neville tucked the small volume into the pocket of his robes and went down to eat.

Greenhouse four was a good place to be alone. Neville enjoyed walking along the rows, slapping at the Venomous Tentacula when it tried to grab him, seeing which plants had done well and which needed some extra care. The Devil's Snare in the far corner was thriving behind the canvas that he had arranged to keep it from getting too much light, but the dittany looked peaky. Professor Sprout had warned him about that when he had divided it in November. He checked to make sure its soil was not too wet and moved on.

When he had seen that everything was in good shape, he pulled out his book and sat on the potting bench about halfway up, flipping through the pages.

"If a wizard wishes to have the best results from his potions," he read aloud, having found that the best way to cope with the difficult typeface and peculiar old spellings, "he should put some of himself into the constituent. That is to say, his own essence should be mixed with the water used to moisten these plants."

His own essence? Neville was not sure what that meant. His blood? The door to the greenhouse banged, and he looked up. He must have not latched it properly behind him when he came in.

Walking over to close it, he mulled over Johannis's words. Essence. Perhaps Hermione could help him, she always seemed to know such things, but he felt stubbornly that he wanted to work it out for himself.

* * *

  
There was a light on in greenhouse four. Luna went in, circling around a large tub of aconite that stood near the door. Its fringy leaves reminded her of a Thestral's mane, and she reached out a hand to stroke the green fronds, enjoying the sensation as they brushed over her palm.

"What are you doing here?" Neville Longbottom was standing next to her.

She shrugged, blinking at him. "I like it. Don't you?"

"Yes," he said, looking confused. Luna was used to people looking confused when they spoke with her. "But I'm taking care of some of the plants for Professor Sprout. I wouldn't come to the greenhouses just because I like them."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Oh." Luna drifted down the walkway in the center of the greenhouse, vaguely aware that Neville was following her. "Look, someone left a book here."

"That's mine," he said, picking it up quickly and holding it to his chest.

"Why don't you want me to see it?" she asked.

"It's... it's an old book about magical plants, how to grow them and stuff like that. I was going to try some of the things the author suggested and see if they work. But maybe they won't." Neville ducked his head.

"What things?"

"I'm not sure. It's hard to understand what he's saying sometimes. He says that a wizard can improve his potions if he uses plants that he has grown using his own essence. I think perhaps that's blood."

"No, it's not," Luna told him. "Your essence is your seed. That's you, distilled down."

"My seed? Oh," Neville blushed. "Oh. Er."

"I think you should try his idea," she said. "It makes sense."

"Sometime, maybe."

"Not now? Oh, I see, you don't want to when I'm here. It wouldn't bother me, you know."

* * *

  
"Why not?" Neville asked her. He could not quite believe he was having a conversation with Luna Lovegood about, well, about using his own come as fertilizer. She really was loony.

"Because it's a perfectly natural thing," she answered serenely. "I think it would be more difficult for a witch, you know, but for you it would be quite simple. I'll help, if you like."

"No!" His voice squeaked. Neville cleared his throat. "No, that, uh, that won't be necessary. Thank you."

"There must be some plants that it would be good for." Luna tipped her head on one side. "You needn't be embarrassed."

"I'm not." But he was, especially because this talk was actually making him get hard under his robes. No girl had ever intimated that she would like to get physical with him before. He knew he was nothing special, not on his house Quidditch team, ordinary-looking, near the bottom of most of his classes. Why was Luna saying these things? She had moved closer, and his breath came short.

"Then go on."

"Sorry." He ran.

* * *

  
But he could not forget it. When he saw her dirty-blonde hair over at the Ravenclaw table during breakfast the next morning, he heard Luna's voice in his mind: "I'll help, if you like."

He went back to greenhouse four that night. She wasn't there. Every night for a week Neville waited in the greenhouse, thinking about it. He was sure that Luna had been right about what Gerardus Johannis meant by "essence," so sure that he did not bother asking Hermione. He could try it on his own, of course. It was not as if he had a problem with wanking, any more than any of the other boys. They all tried to be quiet, but they always knew when one of the others was going at it behind the curtains. But somehow it seemed wrong to do so, when it was Luna who had made it all clear.

* * *

  
"Luna."

She was sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table, as usual, when he stopped and spoke.

"Hello, Neville."

"I was thinking about your suggestion. For my Herbology experiments. I think maybe it's a good idea after all. Would you like to meet after dinner tonight?"

Luna nodded.

"In greenhouse four."

She nodded again. "I'll be there."

He walked away, and she watched him.

"You're going to meet Longbottom?" hissed Morag McDougal from across the table. "You're mad."

"He's not that bad," said Padma Patil, unexpectedly. "He was in the D.A., you know."

"Yes," Luna said, "he was." She buttered a slice of bread and bit into it.

* * *

  
Neville felt nervous, but Luna seemed unconcerned as he cast a Locking Charm on the door. Not that any other student was likely to wander down to greenhouse four after dinner, not through the cold of a January night. Even Professor Sprout was doubtless in her own rooms in the castle, but it was always possible that she might take it into her head to check on the progress of the latest crop of Mandrakes.

He could not decide what to do next. He had a jar ready, since the alleged purpose of this was to collect his spunk for fertilizing the plants. But it seemed awfully rude to whip off his robes and go at it in front of Luna. Besides, she had said she was going to help. Should he kiss her, first?

"Luna?"

She turned away from the tub of Screechsnaps. Absently he noticed that she had radishes hanging from her ears, but here in the greenhouse it seemed natural, rather than outlandish. "Are these some of the plants you take care of? They complain a lot about the dragon dung. You should try your fertilizer out on them."

"Uh, okay." Neville swallowed. "Should we, um..." He broke off as Luna began to remove her robes, and hastily started undoing his.

For all that he had been thinking about little else for a week, seeing Luna's naked body made Neville's mouth dry. He knew he was staring at the way her pale pink nipples jutted out from her breasts. They were not as large as he had imagined, and not as perfectly round as the breasts on the witches in the magazines that Seamus kept hidden at the bottom of his trunk, but he could not take his eyes off them. Almost without volition he reached out. Luna stepped closer, letting him touch her.

Her skin was soft and smooth and warm, and when his thumb grazed over one nipple it tightened. Luna made a small sound of pleasure and Neville was heady with the realization that he had caused that, he had made her feel good, maybe he could manage this all right after all. She was gazing at him curiously, her head tilted to one side, as he bent his head to brush his lips against hers.

"That's nice," she said when he pulled back. Her pale blue eyes were wide open. Neville wondered if she had shut them when he kissed her. He had always thought you were supposed to close them, and he had done so himself. Without his quite noticing how it had happened, she had taken his hand and brought it to her hip.

What was he supposed to do now? Tentatively he stroked her, feeling the bone jutting through, the crease between hip and thigh leading his fingers downward. He touched the patch of light-brown hair, and she shivered a little, her hands sliding along his chest and down to his stomach. He was not in great shape, he knew that, he had second helpings of pudding more than he ought to, but Luna did not seem to notice anything amiss.

His cock was hard, straining, and when Luna touched the head of it, the foreskin sliding back to expose him to her, he was surprised at how different it felt from his own hands. For the first time she seemed uncertain, looking at him as she slid her hand up and down.

* * *

  
Luna had heard whispered conversations among the other girls about what boys liked, what they did with their boyfriends down by the lake or up in the Astronomy Tower. Nothing she had heard had conveyed the reality of it. Neville's cock seemed almost to have a life of its own, moving eagerly in her hand, dark red and moist at the tip. She liked the way it felt, warm and hard, solid. Like Neville was. Reliable.

His fingers were pressing against her clit, not hard enough to make her come, but enough to make her rock against him. She hummed a tune that her mother had once sung.

* * *

  
Neville was pressed back against the side of the cupboard that held spare pots and trowels and watering cans and all the other gardening accouterments that he was so familiar with. But none of those things had any reality for him just now. Reality was Luna, wet under his hand, the bumps and ridges and crevices of her becoming known to him.

"Wait," he protested when she moved away, shaking her hair back.

"Why?" She leaned her cheek against his chest and slipped downward, and he barely had time to inhale before her mouth closed around his cock.

He looked down. Luna was kneeling, each vertebrae of her back visible as she bent forward, straggly blond hair parted crookedly over her scalp and falling down either side of her face. He could not see her face, but her tongue moved over him like... like nothing Neville had ever imagined. Hot and moist and firm-soft and oh, Merlin, she was _sucking_ and it felt better than anything, the familiar almost painful rush as his balls tightened and his fingers were scrabbling at the wood of the cupboard, flakes of paint coming off under his nails, and he tried to warn her that he was going to come in her mouth if she kept on but it was too late, he already had.

* * *

  
The suddenness with which Neville came was what Luna had expected. Everyone said that boys were fast, much faster than girls usually. She had liked the taste of him until then, salty and musky, but the spunk was bitter and she nearly swallowed just to get rid of it. In time she remembered that the reason they were here was to save it, and instead she spat into her hand.

"There's a jar," Neville mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

She saw it sitting there and wiped off the sticky mess against the lip of the glass, watching it streak palely down the inside.

Neville was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked like he needed the toilet. "I, uh, I'm sorry, Luna."

Luna looked at him, and now he looked back. "It's all right," she said.

"Can I..." he made a little gesture toward her, "can I touch you?"

Without answering, she moved closer. His expression was intent, almost solemn, as he bent forward and put his mouth on her breast. She felt his tongue exploring, both her nipples crinkling as he suckled on the right one.

He straightened up, tugging her with him to the bench. He sat down and had her kneel over him, her thighs spread wide across his lap, and then tilted his head up to kiss her. She wondered what he thought of the taste of himself in her mouth. She wondered if he had tasted it before.

His fingers were on her again, more confident this time, and Luna stopped wondering.

* * *

  
Neville explored Luna with his fingers. She felt so different from what he had ever imagined, warm and damp and fringed with soft-rough hair. The smell of her, though, was half-familiar; he supposed that sex smelled similar on everyone, although her scent was mellower, less acrid, than he was used to from himself or the other boys. She was tight as he slid a finger inside her. He wondered if she was a virgin, and if this would hurt her, but surely even Luna would say something if so.

It did not seem to. She wriggled closer, rocking into him, and Neville tried adding another finger. For all the tightness this one also went in easily, and he tried pulling them out and pushing in again, over and over, as he would do as if he were fucking her. There was a kind of wet sploshing sound as he moved, and Neville imagined how it would feel if his cock were inside. It twitched a little at the thought, but he ignored that for now, concentrating on Luna. He stroked his thumb over her clit, and she moaned. Neville repeated the movement, enjoying that he was making her feel so good.

Luna's head was tilted back, her breasts flushed as her hips jerked. "Ah... ah... ah..." came high-pitched and breathy from her throat. Neville kept rubbing her clit with his thumb, not sure how to tell if she had come, until she brought her hand down over his and gently pulled it away.

"That's enough."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He needed her reassurance.

She gave him a sidelong smile. "Did it sound like you did? No."

"Good."

Luna swung one leg around and stood up, unselfconscious in her nakedness, reaching for her discarded robes.

"Did you want to try watering the plants tonight? Which ones?"

"I guess I'll try the Screechsnaps, like you suggested. Even mixed with water I think there's only enough to water one potful," said Neville, bemused. He started to put on his own robes again.

Luna watched as he poured the water-and-spunk mixture over the Screechsnaps. Neville wanted to ask her if she would come down to the greenhouse again tomorrow night, but he had trouble deciding how to say it.

Finally he blurted out, "Do you want to do this again sometime?"

Wide pale eyes looked into his own, and Luna nodded. "Of course. I'm very interested in Herbology."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cjmarlowe for the 2006 hp_springsmut exchange. Many thanks to exit_chrysalis and to jelazakazone for their quick onceovers.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How Great a Difference](https://archiveofourown.org/works/124117) by [Celandine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine)




End file.
